The Uncrowned King and Queen of Karaoke
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: It's the first official Open Mic Karaoke Night at Pop's and, 'cause it's Riverdale, it's full of drama. Veronica just wants Archie to perform a lovers' duet with her, Cheryl wants to slay her competition, Kevin and Betty still have friction in their friendship, and Jughead /really/ doesn't want to sing. Varchie, Bughead.


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Riverdale. Or** ** _any_** **of the songs or movies mentioned.**

"I see that Pop's is running out of ideas on how to draw in crowds as its popularity shrinks, _again_. I mean, you guys were desperate before, but this is really just scraping the bottom of the barrel," Cheryl Blossom scoffed the moment she walked, alone, into Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe.

Betty Cooper, overhearing her characteristic curt remark, turned around in her booth with the eyes of Alice Cooper reigning in her face, and said, "And yet here you are, Cheryl. I guess their ad campaign worked."

"Please. I'm only here to watch my fellow classmates make fools of themselves. I know I already get a front row seat eight hours a day, but laughter, especially at fools, is good for your health," Cheryl said confidently, strutting away towards the bar, probably to steal some other unsuspecting kid's maraschino cherry.

Betty turned back in her seat to her friends. "If she hadn't actually tried to kill herself, I'd say that laughter wouldn't do anything for her."

"Wait, Cheryl's here? Why?" Kevin instantly wanted to know.

"It's obvious, isn't it? It's the first Open Mic Karaoke Night at Pop's, and she wants to witness every glorious humiliation firsthand," Jughead said, with the usual savor of hard-hitting words all writers liked to use to make things in real life sound _wayyyy_ more dramatic than they were.

"You don't think she came here to sing, do you?" Kevin thought, brightening at the very idea. "I mean, she showed everyone she's got some chops, singing with The Pussycats—"

"I wouldn't say that. They let just anyone into The Pussycats nowadays," Veronica said, elbowing Archie beside her with an especial smirk. Both could relate to that comment.

"Who knows, though. Cheryl's . . . unpredictable these days," Betty said, widening her eyes a little before sipping from her large soda.

"That's an understatement of the century," Jughead said. He leaned on his arm around the back of the booth to look over at Cheryl. She wrote her name on the list of singers at the top before demurely taking a seat at the bar and looking, for the first time, completely aware that she was all alone. She looked a little sad for it. One could almost pity her.

"Speaking of Open Mic Karaoke Night, when it's starting? I'm itching to get on that stage," Veronica said, bouncing in her seat.

"Wait, you're not actually going to _sing_ , are you?" Jughead wondered, turning his attention back to his table.

"Every stage, spotlight, and open mic calls my name when I walk into the room. I've already put down my name on the list. Yours too, Archiekins," Veronica said, smiling at her boyfriend.

Archie choked on his soda. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I'm up for the spotlight tonight, Veronica. I-I haven't practiced—I don't have my guitar—"

"You're not debuting your new acoustic band, Archie. It's karaoke. Drunk people do it all the time. It can't be _that_ hard," Jughead said encouragingly.

"You should totally do it, Archie. You _love_ singing," Betty said, _actually_ encouraging him.

"Please. There will be _so_ many people trying to sing who actually can't. Break up the mediocrity or the crowds will disappear and Pop's will be an abandoned ghost town," Kevin begged.

"You don't need me. You guys have Cheryl and Veronica. The Pussycats might show up, too," Archie said.

Now his four table companions all exchanged looks, actually concerned now. Was Archie Andrews, the aspiring musician, song-writing and guitar-playing Archie Andrews, bowing out from a chance at performing? Really?

"Really, Archie? You're balking at the chance of singing onstage?" Veronica asked. This was easy, coming from Veronica. She could take the spotlight any time, any place; just hand her a mic and she was ready.

Archie, on the other hand, suffered from a debilitating disease Veronica had no firsthand experience with: stage-fright. Despite how much he _liked_ performing once he was already into it, beforehand, he shook in his boots. He needed coaxing. Veronica knew this, and yet, she forgot about it sometimes. It was hard to remember that Archie Andrews, always self-confident and brave, should flinch at the thought of an all-seeing audience.

"I'm not mentally prepared for it right now," Archie said, skating around the real reason. "With my dad's shooter on my mind, and the Red Circle . . . I'm just not in the right head-space for it right now."

"Which is totally the reason you should be doing it," Kevin said. "Everyone's minds are somewhere else right now, all the time. That's why we need tonight: to put away all the bad stuff, and just have fun. Be sixteen." He didn't meet Betty's eyes when he said this. He didn't want to see the sympathetic look on her face.

"Archie," Ronnie looped her arm through his elbow and met his eyes, "it would be good for you. Come on; when's the last time that Archie Andrews _enjoyed_ doing something? When was the last time you had _fun_?"

Archie didn't say anything, but everyone knew what he thought; he didn't deserve to have fun while big important things, like the Black Hood, threatened Riverdale. How could he? How could he pretend that _nothing_ bad was happening and everything was sunshine and unicorns and rainbows? He _couldn't_.

"Archie?" Jughead said, breaking through the mental fog that isolated Archie from the rest of the group. His best friend looked up and Jughead said, tilting his head and waving his hand, "You _should_ do it."

Archie and Jughead looked at each other. No one else could see the friendship between them, see the way Jughead begged Archie to not be consumed by this darkness that haunted Riverdale, at least not _all_ the time; it was him begging him to not abandon his friends by going somewhere only he could go.

So Archie nodded. "All right," he said, putting an arm around Veronica, "I'll sing. On _two_ conditions."

Jughead smiled and leaned back, arm around Betty, relaxed. "Name them."

"Number one, Ronnie and I do a duet." Archie looked at his girlfriend with a smile.

"Excellent! I've already been perusing songs. I was thinkin', since the theme of the night is Cinematic Songs, 'Summer Lovin'' from Grease—"

"NO!" shouted Archie, Betty, Jughead, and Kevin in unison.

Veronica looked stunned and they all looked at each other. She said, "Okay, so we're not doing that song."

"Just . . . think about it. You'll know why in a minute," Kevin said, not looking at Veronica.

Veronica thought about it. Then looked at Archie. Oh, Archie and Grundy—summer lovin'—ICK!

"Exactly," Kevin said.

"Okay, so we're not doing that. So, other duets. It's going to have to come to a vote between 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen' or 'A Whole New World'." Veronica smiled at the table and said, "Which would you rather hear?"

Jughead looked like he wanted to vote 'independent' while Betty voted 'A Whole New World' while Kevin was totally 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen'. "The amount of sass you can infuse into that song could bring you to a whole new level of sass never before reached in Riverdale," he pointed out.

"Yes, but there's no actual duet _singing_ in 'Sixteen'. If they did 'World', they could actually harmonize," Betty pointed out.

"'Sixteen'," said Kevin stoutly, settling back in his seat with confidence.

Betty folded her arms, making Jughead tighten his arm around her. "'World,'" she said flatly, unmoved.

Jughead noticed the tense stare-off between his girlfriend and her other best friend and said hurriedly, "Okay, I'm voting for 'World'. There."

"Thanks, Jughead," Veronica said gratefully. Then she turned to Archie. "And your second condition, Archiekins?"

Archie smirked at Jughead. "Jughead sings, too."

Jughead mounted a vehement protest while Archie, teasing, launched into a spiel about not doing it unless they were _all_ doing it, when a commotion at the door brought all of their attention to the grand entrance of The Pussycats. Josie coolly led her girls straight to the list and put their name on the top, before Cheryl's. "Pops," she called to the manager, "show's about to begin."

And so it did. All heads turned to the corner where a little stage, all lit up with theater bulbs, stood. A microphone stand was hooked up with a computer screen next to it; a larger TV screen was above the stage so the audience could see the lyrics. Upon his request, Jughead did Pops a favor and grabbed his laptop and took over the DJing, both giving him something valid to do to evade Archie's condition, and to help Pops out. Seriously, he'd do anything for the kind old man.

The Pussycats were the show-opener, of course, and would probably be the only singers getting any applause. Claps echoed in the diner as the three girls leaned into the microphone and sang 'Zero to Hero' from 'Hercules'. Josie, as usual, led with her sweet, strong voice, while Valerie and Melody provided harmonious notes and great backup, especially in the chorus. The Chock'lit Shoppe was rocking as all the customers got into it.

Veronica leaned over and yelled in Archie's ear over the sound of the music, "This was a great idea. What gave Pops the idea to put a karaoke stage in, anyway?"

Archie shrugged. "Who knows. Just the same, it's brought in a lot of the old crowd."

(Hiram Lodge _had_ seen it as a way to bring people into the diner, but he also had the stage installed because he knew how much Ronnie loved singing and performing.)

Josie and The Pussycats finished to massive applause. Next was Betty; she stepped up nervously, not looking up. Archie whooped and Veronica cheered and Kevin didn't say anything, though he wanted to; Jughead gave her a nod and a smile that made her smile a little, though it disappeared quickly. She quietly told him her song selection; he thought it odd, but played it anyway.

Betty held the microphone in her hands and took a deep breath; she kept her eyes on the lyrics instead of the audience. She didn't want to meet their eyes as she sang 'Reflection' from 'Mulan'. Now, Mulan being a kid's movie _and_ a Disney movie, nobody thought to take it as seriously; sure, The Pussycats had done a Disney kid's movie, but they were The Pussycats; they could do whatever they wanted. Besides, they'd chosen an upbeat, cheerful song. 'Reflection' was neither upbeat or cheerful. It was longing and deep and personal, and when you listened to Betty Cooper, of all people, singing it, it made everyone quietly go 'oh'.

The whole diner went silent, listening to Betty. She was an okay singer, but it was the emotion she put into her words that held everyone captive. Even the blender with the milkshakes and the hamburgers frying on the flat top couldn't be heard. Everyone's eyes were on her, even as she couldn't look at them. Everyone listened, trapped in a surprising spell. Everyone, especially Jughead, was stunned to silence. 'Cause this is _his girlfriend_. He should know this. He shouldn't be surprised hearing all these words from her mouth 'cause he's supposed to already know this about her. Suddenly he feels very out of the loop and suddenly like a bad boyfriend. He was so wrapped up in his own problems, with the Serpents and his dad's legal case and Southside High, with his own life, that he never stopped and looked Betty in the eye and asked, "How are you doing?"

He sat still as a statue as she finished and the music ran out. Then she looked up, and met Jughead's eyes. She shrugged and put the microphone back on the stand before hurrying off the stage.

"Betty," Jughead said, running out of the diner after her. She stopped a few yards away from the door, her shoulders heaving. "Betty," Jughead whispered, wrapping his arms around her. He faced her back, so he couldn't see her face. She didn't want him to. So he put his head down against the crook of her neck and held her tight for a while. He whispered, "I'm so sorry. If you need to talk, I'm totally there for you. About _anything_. Seriously."

Betty turned and faced him with tight lips and shining eyes. He whispered, "Okay?" hoping she wouldn't reject him.

She nodded. "Okay."

He wrapped her in a big ol' bear hug and held her to him as closely and gently as he could.

They walked back into the diner hand in hand and Jughead looked at everyone in their booth, the look telling them to say nothing and to move on. "So," he said, "who's singing next?"

"That would be me," Cheryl said, bouncing up from her seat. She tilted her head and cooed at Betty, "Oh, was that song a little too honest for you? A little too sad? Next time, stick to Cinderella songs. They fit with your perfect girl persona." Cheryl strutted over to the stage and Jughead looked like he wanted to pull a punch on her, orphaned, traumatized girl or not, but Betty squeezed his hand. "Just, play the music for her, Jug," she said.

Betty asked, so Jughead did. He took his seat and watched on, as weirded out as everyone else, as Cheryl put on a dramatic performance of 'My Heart Will Go On' from 'Titanic.' She said before she sang, "This is for my poor dead brother, Jason. Jason, you're always with me; death can't part soulmates."

 _"_ _Every night in my dreams, I see you, I_ feel _you; that is how I know you go on. . ."_

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is supposed to be a romantic song, right?" Veronica said, perturbed.

"Well, _supposed_ to be, anyway," Archie said uncomfortably.

"It _does_ sound awfully romantic. Like, incestuous," Betty said with a wrinkled nose.

"Very Cheryl," Kevin commented, even as he looked uncomfortable as well.

The song ended with tears standing and actually jiggling in Cheryl's eyes while she wore a sad face but a proud smile. It was weird, and no one knew how to react, so everyone just kind of clapped a little. She strutted down between the booths like she'd just slayed at the Grammys. She posed herself on the barstool and demurely sipped at her pretty little milkshake, looking pleased as punch the entire time.

"All right." Kevin slammed his hands on the table and stood up. "I'm next."

"Ohhhh, what are you going to sing?" Betty wanted to know.

Kevin lost a little of his smile in speaking to Betty. "'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.' What do you think?"

Jughead glanced up from his laptop and saw Betty looking hurt and anxious, not by Kevin's words, but by his continued attitude to her. Jughead had never harbored a sudden and desperate need to sucker punch nice-guy Kevin Keller until now.

He played Kevin's song moodily, listened to him moodily while glancing back at Betty, wished in vain that he could relinquish the job of DJing (but he couldn't, 'cause no one else could do this job, this _stupidly_ simple and easy job, as well as he could. They really couldn't), and looked up at Kevin with a glare when he finished and asked as he passed by, "How was that?"

The glare spoke for him. Kevin pressed his lips together and took his seat back and began to feel a touch of creeping guilt. Maybe he _was_ being a jerk. But he didn't want to admit that right now.

There were a few more people on the list before Veronica and Archie. Most were high school students. There was a middle school kid and a couple of parents who wanted to live out a bit of their thirty-year-old dreams of singing up on stage. They were all fair to middling with a few that made everyone wish they were deaf. The crowd favorite was a grandpa with a swanky jazz song that everyone enjoyed immensely. Everyone at the table kind of forgot about singing as their orders arrived and cheeseburgers were devoured. Betty brought Jughead's over to him and sat with her cheek against his shoulder as he reduced his burger to nothing and she nibbled on fries. Both were aware of her weak appetite.

Veronica, at least, kept one ear pricked, and when she heard the last notes of Saul Bally's song die away, she looked wickedly and excitedly at Archie. "Guess who's next?!" she said, leaping up out of the booth and dragging Archie out with her.

Kevin sat alone in the booth and sighed, slinking down further in his seat. He looked over at Cheryl sitting all by herself at the bar. She stirred her mostly untouched milkshake absentmindedly with her straw. She didn't wear a smile now. He was tempted to go sit next to her, but also kind of wished for Betty to come back. He was stuck between the two choices, so he did what you do when you're stuck between two choices: he didn't do anything. He didn't do anything but slump further down the red leather and watch the karaoke stage.

Veronica pulled Archie onto the stage beside her while giving Jughead a thumb's up. He and she shared a rare smile that Archie didn't like (Jughead _and_ Ronnie conspiring against him? He didn't stand a chance) and pulled up the song.

"There's only one mic, so we'll have to share," Veronica pointed out.

"Like that's ever been a problem in the past," Archie said in a flash of his old humor. Then he sobered a little, and Veronica said, hand on his shoulder, "Archie?" He met her eyes. "Your mind's right here, right? Not somewhere else. Not on the Southside or the Northside, but here, ready to do karaoke at Pop's, right?" The concern shone in her eyes.

Archie clasped her wrist in a comforting gesture. "Don't you worry, Ronnie. I'm right here."

Veronica knew he couldn't always say that and not be lying. Her smile was sad as she said, faux-cheerfully, "Okay. Then let's do this."

'A Whole New World' was taken to a whole new level. Their voices complemented each other like sugar and spice. They _were_ sassy, just as Kevin knew they would, but they were also sweet. They harmonized like they'd practiced for hours. They were solely focused on each other, their eyes never leaving the other. Which is why they were so surprised as they were startled out of their lovers' gaze by the momentous applause ringing out from every corner of the diner. Kevin threw a whooping whistle and the corner of Cheryl's red mouth hooked in a snarl. Jughead looked at Betty with a look of approval and she clapped hardest of all.

They were the last, but what a great finale. The five friends gathered at the booth, Jughead with his laptop under his arm, and talked animatedly between sips of milkshake. They were interrupted by the intimidating presence of an artificially sweet Cheryl Blossom. "Well, isn't this the party table," she said sweetly, laying a hand on the booth behind Archie's head. Instinctively he slid a little closer to Veronica.

"Evening, Cheryl," Veronica said in the polite voice all Lodges had, "what are you doing here?"

"Why so suspicious, Ronnie? You aren't scared by little ol' me, are you?" Cheryl teased.

"No, but usually you only wanna talk because of some sort of delicious and scandalous drama. So, please, cut the suspense. What. Are you. Doing here?" Veronica said with that same artificial sweetness.

"Well, since Hobo here was doing the simplest music-playing gig in the world," here a nod to Jughead, who betrayed no emotion, as he only took Cheryl seriously on very rare occasions, "I thought you all might be in the know about the rules and winners about tonight's entertainment."

"Cheryl, can't you just say what you mean plainly?" Betty wanted to know.

"Why, do you need more simple words? Am I confusing you with multisyllabic words like 'en-ter-tain-ment'?" Cheryl wanted to know.

"Cut the dancing and just say what you came for, Cheryl. _Honestly_ ," Kevin scoffed.

Betty smiled a little at his covert help and Cheryl frowned. "Fine. Who won?"

Everyone else looked confused. "Sorry, who 'won'?" Archie asked.

"Yes. Who was the winner of karaoke tonight? Who were the judges? You guys? That's terribly unfair, given how biased you are to anyone in your group, but whatever. Pops lets you all do whatever you want here, so I shouldn't be that surprised. Was there a points system? Or was it decided by mass majority approval? Did whoever get the most applause win? Please tell me we're not celebrating mediocrity and worrying about hurt feelings by having second and third places," Cheryl said.

Once again, cue the confused faces on everyone's faces. "This wasn't a competition, and nowhere was it ever advertised as such," Veronica said. "But then again, Cheryl, you turn _everything_ into a competition. 'Cause we're all just pitted against each other in everything, aren't we?"

"Ronnie," Archie said, giving her a pleading look. He didn't want to get into it. Not with Cheryl. She might be a snake, but she was always a wounded snake.

"It was just for fun, Cheryl, no competition whatsoever," Betty said. "Though, if anyone won, I'd have to say that you two," here Betty smiled and looked at Archie and Veronica, "are the uncrowned king and queen of karaoke."

"Awww, thanks, Bets," Veronica said, squeezing her hand across the table.

Cheryl's lip snarled again. Clearly the only reason she'd come in tonight was to slay her 'competition' while paying homage to her brother. She felt stupid for the song she chose and her ignorance. "If anyone won, anyone with ears would definitely tell you The Pussycats had _no_ competition." Here she smiled that white-toothed smile, gave a little wave, and said, "See you nerds around school. Well, all except you." This was pointed at Jughead. "I'm surprised you haven't been murdered at your new school yet. Is it fun, walking past a metal detector every morning? Are there security guards in every classroom or are all the teachers armed?"

Jughead frowned. She was a wounded snake that made being sympathetic to her an actual miracle.

Cheryl strutted away and Veronica growled, "And whose father provided drugs to that school she condemns, anyway?"

Jughead waved his hand. "Don't open that can of worms, Veronica. Cheryl's all bark and no bite."

Veronica scoffed, watching the redhead disappear. "She has more bite than I like to admit. I don't like all the power she wields, whether it's real power or feigned."

"Hey," Archie said, meeting Veronica's eyes, "now whose mind is somewhere else? Come back here, my uncrowned queen of karaoke."

Veronica thought that was a silly name, but was secretly terribly pleased by it anyway. She brought up her death by chocolate milkshake and said, "A toast to the first successful open mic karaoke night at Pops's diner!"

Everyone clinked their glasses together. Jughead said, "It sounds like you're implying that there were previous unsuccessful open mic karaoke nights before this and that this is the first successful one."

Veronica cocked her head, giving him a 'really?' look. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just messing with you," Jughead smiled.

It was true, though. It _was_ a very successful open mic karaoke night.

 **The main reason I didn't make Jughead sing was as a nod to Cole Sprouse, who proudly emerged from his Disney career singing-careerless, LOL.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please, review?**


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